California Schemin' - Kate George [22]
“Trouble?” he asked before I even said a word.
“Got into town about an hour ago,” I said. “There was a black Ford pickup waiting for me. I didn’t realize it until a few minutes ago. Thought they were being nice when they waved me in front of them as I pulled out of the airport. What a putz I am.”
“Normally I’d say head for someplace public, but I’m not sure that’s the best thing to do in this case. If the guy who hired these thugs is as desperate as I think he is, they’re just looking for a chance to take a pot shot at you. Frankly, I’m surprised they haven’t tried to take you out on the freeway.”
“Too much traffic. Someone might be able to ID them. That’s my guess anyway. You want me to try and lose them?”
“How you going to do that?”
“Pull off onto Hwy 49 at the last second. If I go from the fast lane to the off-ramp without signaling they may not be able to react fast enough to catch me. Then I’ll drive fast to the hospital where you can meet up with me and keep watch until I get Beau back into the car. What do you think?”
“I don’t want you putting anyone in danger. If there’s a chance that you’ll cause an accident, forget it. I’ll get a couple of local sheriffs to escort you, and we’ll get you there and back that way.”
I rang off and pulled back into the fast lane watching traffic as I drove past Roseville. Sure enough, the black truck followed. I slowed way down for a couple of miles, causing angry motorists to pass us on the right giving middle finger salutes. A mile from my exit I sped up, gradually increasing speed. The driver of the truck didn’t appear to notice at first, dropping so far behind that I was afraid I was giving him too much room. But he noticed and increased his speed too, gaining on me fast.
I checked traffic, saw my gap, and pulled the steering wheel hard to the right. The tires squealed, and somewhere a horn sounded. I took paint off the front fender grazing the yellow garbage cans filled with water that were grouped at the off ramp, but I made the exit. I glanced back and saw the black truck zoom past the off ramp, tires squealing and smoking as they tried to stop. I was just about to celebrate when the back-up lights lit up on the truck. That idiot is going to back up on the freeway!
I hit speaker and redial on the phone as I screamed up the off ramp.
“They’re backing up down the freeway,” I yelled at Fogel as I drove. “Do I get back on the freeway or head up forty-nine? You’ve got five seconds to decide.”
“Get back on the freeway. There will be cruisers waiting for you just past the Foresthill exit.”
I screamed through the red light, narrowly missing an oncoming Buick, thank God, and down the on-ramp across the intersection from the off ramp and back onto the freeway. They know. I needed to put as much distance as possible between us now. I had a feeling the kid gloves were off. I drove like a maniac, weaving in and out of traffic as fast as I was able. I kept checking the mirror, but it was a while before I saw them again. They were hanging back, keeping me in sight. They’re trying not to spook me again. Which made me nervous, because that meant they had a plan for farther on down the road. Maybe for off the freeway.
I passed the Foresthill exit, and before I knew it, four cruisers surrounded me. The officer to my right motioned me to slow, and I brought it down to sixty-five. She gave me a thumbs-up. The road narrowed down to two lanes, and I was directed to drive in the left lane with the guy on the left dropping back. The black truck disappeared the minute the troopers showed up, and we made the drive up to Colfax and along Route 147 to Nevada City without incident.
Fogel met me outside the hospital, and I shook hands with and thanked my guardian angels. A tall black officer whose name tag read J. Russell said cheerfully, “Our pleasure, ma’am. More fun than I’ve had in a while.”
Beau was propped up in bed watching a ball game when I walked in. A bandage was stuck to his head over his right ear, and a blue cast encased his leg from his foot to just above his